


Dancers in the Dark

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Community:au_bigbang, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Flogging, M/M, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of vampires, kink, and family.  You may want to read the original ficlet that started this verse <a href="http://v-angelique.dreamwidth.org/107441.html?#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancers in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> An unintentionally late submission to AU big bang.

Eric's hands slide around his waist, pulling Karl within his lover's wide stance as Eric inhales deeply, his nose following the curve of Karl's throat and his dull front teeth nipping at a stubbled chin. "You drank well tonight," Eric purrs, before Karl traps him in a deep, possessive kiss. He doesn't even bother to use his hands, just walks Eric back against the wall of the foyer with his body, fingers reaching up to twist in and tug at Eric's hair as he saturates himself with Eric's taste. His hips cock forward, erection meeting Eric's through their trousers, and his hands are at the worn leather of Eric's belt when his childe smiles fondly against his mouth.

"Don't you want a report?"

Karl snarls and drags the belt through its loops, wrapping the leather around his fist. "Am I going to have to use this?"

"He stayed inside."

"That's _progress_."

"You missed some hanky panky with Zoe." Karl's eyebrow goes up. "I allowed it. It was amusing. Zoe let him have the upper hand for a while."

"Charming." Karl sighs. Where is he?"

"Living room."

Karl nods and lets go of Eric for the time being, finding Anton curled up on the sofa in a black mesh shirt, a tight black Ramones t-shirt, and faded jeans, his bare feet poking out from the too-long legs. Karl looks over his shoulder at the legal pad in his lap and finds some impossible equation, half-solved. Anton looks like a very cool kid about fifteen years too late, like he's trying to relive a popularity he never had in his formative years. The mortals think he's cute, but Karl strongly suspects it's due to his out-of-style geekiness rather than actual sex appeal.

"Working hard?" he asks mildly, sliding his hand into Anton's hair and giving his head a possessive tug backwards to look up at Karl with kiss-swollen lips.

"I was," Anton pouts. "I want to go out tomorrow night."

"You'd better," Karl sighs. "You're looking pale."

"Gonna hunt me up a pretty boy, Daddy?" Anton teases, grinning as he puts down his pad and climbs over the back of the sofa, twining his arms around Karl's neck.

"You can find your own," Karl snorts, biting lightly at his lips. "Now what've you been doing with my girl?"

"Zoe?" Anton snorts. "Fucking. Is that a problem?"

"Not if you wait until I'm home next time," Karl replies, trailing a finger up Anton's jaw. "Brat."

Anton smirks and tips his chin up for a kiss. "You love me."

"Only marginally."

"You taste like someone young. Am I right? Female, I think," Anton decides, licking Karl's lips again.

"Yes," Karl agrees, kissing him hard on the mouth and then letting go abruptly, leading Eric by the hand to one of the bedrooms in the basement. Anton sighs, but doesn't follow.

~*~

"Hi." The mortal man at the bar is young, gorgeous, self-assured. He's wearing tight jeans around muscular thighs, holes in the knees, and a t-shirt that stretches over his broad chest. There's a bottle of Budweiser in his hand and his eyes are a shade of blue that doesn't often occur in nature. He smirks at Anton, but he's not like the other boys. If he senses that sort of supernatural aura around Anton, the draw of a vampire, he doesn't express it. He doesn't shy away, nor does he yield himself up. He just takes a slow pull from his beer, a measured look up and down Anton's body. Anton's toned his look down a little for this bar -- gay but not trendy, pool tables rather than a dance floor. He wears a faded Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt but no mesh, no earring, only a touch of eyeliner. The stranger seems to approve.

"Hello." The word rolls over the man's tongue, accent generic American, not much else revealed except a certain cockiness.

"What's your name?"

"Chris." The man smirks again. "What's yours?"

"Anton." Now would be the part where Karl would begin the slow tease, the subtle seduction, where Anton would lure the victim into a dark and secluded area. But for some reason, he wants to do neither of those things. So he sits on the stool next to Chris, and he orders a beer.

"Where are you from, Anton?"

"St. Petersburg."

"Long way from home."

Anton shrugs. "I came for boarding school. Stayed for university."

"Yeah? What're you studying?"

"Biology. Was, studying. Three years ago."

"Really? You look... younger."

Another shrug. He's not sure how he feels about this, looking twenty for eternity. He hasn't come to terms with it yet. "Where are you from, Chris?" he asks with uncharacteristic stiff politeness.

"Los Angeles. Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Anton's eyebrows go up. "No."

Chris nods and takes another sip of beer. "Good."

Anton isn't sure he likes it, the way this man makes him feel like a student again, like a mortal. Destructible. He lets his lips curve up into a practiced smile, refocusing on what he wants tonight. "Want to get out of here?"

Chris considers a moment, then grins. "No."

"Pardon?"

"I want you to sit your cute little ass back on that stool and talk to me some more. Anton." He stares. He hadn't even noticed himself sliding off the stool in the first place.

"And if I don't want to?"

"Your loss."

"And if I tell you you're going to come with me now?"

"You'd be wrong." Chris's expression doesn't change. It feels like the usual cat-and-mouse game, except this time, Anton's not the cat.

"What if I told you that you _will_ come with me now?" He tries for a more dominant posture, a suggestive look. Chris laughs.

"Creepy's not sexy, kid. Sit down," Chris repeats, sliding his hand into the small of Anton's back, fingers underneath his t-shirt, thumb stroking Anton's spine. Why do those eyes make him want to _obey_ so badly? "I'll make it worth your while."

Anton hesitates a moment, then he sits. "All right."

"So... biology. Are you a biologist, then?"

Anton shakes his head. "I... my father's very well-off. I don't have to work."

Chris raises his eyebrows. "I see."

"But I still solve problems," Anton says, a little petulantly. "I'm researching a strain that might lead to an AIDS cure."

"Yeah? Bit beyond me, kid," Chris laughs. "But I hope you find it."

Anton shrugs. "It's simple, really. You just... have to be open to different ways of looking at science. And have a lot of time on your hands."

"The problem with that would be, I never look at science in the first place, nor do I have any time on my hands," Chris says, grinning. "I'm a construction worker."

"All physics," Anton argues dismissively. "Physical structures, they're nothing but physics... force, tension, stress and strain..."

Chris's mouth curves into a smile as Anton recites the words, and suddenly they're all so much _dirtier_ than just physics. Chris takes a sip of his beer and then pauses a moment, just looking at Anton. "What else do you do in your spare time?" he asks after a moment.

"Dance. Fuck." Anton pauses. "Play the violin."

"You any good?"

Anton nods.

"You live far? I'd like to hear you play."

Anton frowns. "No, but... home's complicated." He doesn't want to bring this mortal back to the house, have everyone else see him and coo over him and maybe even feed on him before Anton gets a chance. No. Chris is... different. Anton hasn't had a regular feed, not in three years, even though he's running out of options in the city. This is the first time he's wanted that.

"Ah, that's all right," Chris says, breaking Anton out of his wandering thoughts. "My place?"

"Yeah," Anton agrees quietly. "Yeah, let's... I can't stay, though. Not till morning."

Chris shrugs. "That's cool. Do what you're comfortable with, man. All I'm asking for is a fuck, a little conversation..."

Anton nods. "Let's go."

~*~

Chris's apartment is tiny and a bit of a mess, but it's homey enough, with big tapestries covering the walls and photos on the dresser. He shoves some stuff off the bed first, then turns back to Anton with an apologetic grin. "Can I get you something to drink?"

_You_, Anton would say on any other night. But his hunger is a dull ache, and something more urgent is throbbing in his veins. "No thanks." He steps forwards, into Chris's personal space, meaning to intimidate, but it doesn't come off that way at all. Chris towers over him, and his hand comes to rest in the small of Anton's back as if he's done this a thousand times, as if he already knows exactly what makes Anton tick. He smirks, and Anton thinks that maybe he does.

Chris's head tilts to capture Anton's lips and it's easy, wet, lots of pauses for air for a minute. Only a minute, though, and then it gets harder, one of Chris's hands at the back of Anton's head and the other on his ass. Anton whimpers, and that is _not_ a sound he makes, not outside the house, anyway. Chris isn't a vampire. Chris isn't Karl or Eric or Bruce, so why is Anton behaving this way?

"Get on the bed, kid," Chris purrs. His voice is low and honeyed, that smirk back in place.

"I'm not a..." Chris's finger presses to Anton's lips, shushing him.

"Shh. Get on the bed."

Their eyes meet in challenge for a minute. Chris raises his eyebrows and Anton's pissed off at himself for stepping backward, tugging his shirt over his head, sitting down. Chris grins and stands with his knees up against the bed, to either side of Anton's. His hand fists in Anton's hair, dragging his head back, and Anton's lips part instinctively with the motion. The other hand finds Anton's right nipple and a finger and thumb twist, _hard_. Anton cries out softly and Chris swallows it in another kiss.

"Anyone ever hurt you, kid?" Chris murmurs against his lips, his fingertip trailing along the worn leather of Anton's belt.

"Everyone's been hurt," Anton replies sarcastically, but Chris just smiles and bites at Anton's lip.

"That's not what I mean. And you know it."

"What, you want me to beg you to spank me or something? You're a complete stranger."

"Not anymore, I'm not," Chris argues, twisting a bit of Anton's hair between his fingers. "And I don't want you to beg. I don't mind a struggle."

Anton raises his eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that," Chris laughs. "I'm not a psycho. Only if you're into it, and you can have a safeword. I just want to pink you up a little before I fuck you."

Anton snarls and reaches up, tugs Chris down to the bed on top of him by the shirt in one strong motion. He flips them, straddling Chris's hips. "I'm a vampire," he says bluntly, showing his fangs. "Scared now?"

Chris looks... well, only mildly impressed. "Not really. Uh... sorry."

Anton frowns. That wasn't the right answer.

"Sorry, man," Chris laughs. "I just... know a guy who got bit, once. I know you people exist. It's cool and all."

Anton considers a moment, then strokes Chris's cheek with his finger. "Then you know why it doesn't... make sense, that way," he says petulantly.

Chris grins and grabs Anton's wrist, bites down on his finger. "No, I don't. Enlighten me."

"What, you want me to suck your blood after you beat my ass?"

Chris shrugs. "Whatever floats your boat, sugar."

Anton snarls.

"You can say no if you want," Chris reasons, his finger again stroking along Anton's belt, from one loop to the next. "You can take my blood by force. But you'll never have this," he says, voice dark with promise, tucking in his finger between the belt and Anton's jeans, tugging gently. "And you're curious."

Anton frowns. "Someone else could give me this."

Chris shrugs. "Maybe."

Anton thinks for a moment, and then makes a frustrated sound, flopping onto his back. "Fine. Give it your best shot."

Chris laughs and reaches over, strokes down the center of Anton's chest. "Don't sound so enthusiastic."

"Oh, blow me."

"Mm." Chris grins. "If you're good."

~*~

When Anton finds himself tied to a dinky little desk chair with soft cotton rope, it should be ridiculous. It should be _ludicrous_\--after all, he could snap that shit without blinking an eye, have this fucker on his back and bled dry in minutes. But somehow, in the course of twenty minutes of making out and letting anticipation grow in the spaces between them, it's ceased to be about real physical power and who _could_ and who _couldn't_. It's about a part of Anton's brain that he hasn't accessed since he lost his mortality, and it's about the jolt in his stomach when he found out that Chris _keeps_ soft cotton rope in his closet, and it's about the fact that he's still wearing his jeans and he's just waiting for the zipper to break under the pressure of his penis hardening beneath it. It's about the way Chris moves, strong arms and muscled back, about the way he tips the chair onto two legs and bends to kiss Anton like his kiss is more precious than oxygen. It's about the familiar way Chris strokes Anton's leather belt across his own palm, and about the way he just can't be intimidated by _what_ Anton is, about the way he's interested in _who_ Anton is in spite of all that.

It's about the way the leather cracks over his back the first time, about a sound that can't be contained, about a need that can't be repressed any longer.

~*~

Chris fucks him in the bed, on his stomach, knees tucked up, back flaming red. Chris's cock stabs into his ass with no less violence than Karl's does on a regular basis, and the words murmured in his ear are no less tender. Chris's hand rests on his throat and Anton coughs out the words he never meant to say--pleas, entreaties, requests that certainly couldn't be worthy of a vampire. Chris takes them all and in return, gives Anton something that feels like salvation. They cuddle in the bed afterwards and Anton drinks from Chris's jugular without the usual passion or violence of the feed. His hands caress Chris's neck to either side of his mouth and he suckles like a babe. Chris closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and when he has consumed his fill it is not Anton doing the comforting.

~*~

"What do you think?" Eric murmurs, stroking Karl's cheek as they lie together, Eric spooned up behind Karl, watching Anton sleep like a baby next to them in the big bed. The basement is well-appointed, with several bedrooms and two lounge-like rooms for leisure during daytime hours. Normally, Anton's up with them a few hours after sunrise, but this morning he's already sleeping soundly.

"Smelling like that? He had a very good feed," Karl surmises, shrugging. "He was due for one."

"Yeah," Eric agrees. It's more than that, and they can both sense it, but the sun is high in the sky and it's easy to cuddle into each other and let sleep overtake them. Questions can wait for dusk.

~*~

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"You fed last night," Karl points out, raising an eyebrow. "Or do the rules escape you?"

"I'm not _going_ to feed. I'm... meeting someone."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Anton's expression softens, and Karl sees something like that boy he took an interest in three years ago--a boy for the most part more mature than the vampire he's become. "Please?"

Karl considers for a moment, then nods. "All right," he agrees, his own tone more gentle, his thumb coming up to stroke Anton's jaw. "Don't cut it so close to sunrise tonight," he murmurs, brushing his lips over Anton's.

"I won't." Karl shakes his head, watching him leave, and steps back into the house.

"Boys will be boys," Bruce teases from the sofa. He's drinking a cup of coffee and reading that morning's paper, heedless of the fact that it's completely dark outside. The rest of them have grown used to waking up for steak and potatoes and having their last meal of ham and eggs at a diner before heading back to the house, but Bruce's habits die hard. They don't strictly need to eat, but it does help, especially in between feeds.

"It's this particular boy that I'm worried about," Karl grumbles, sitting down next to Bruce and kicking his boots up on the coffee table.

"Anton's young. He'll settle." Bruce lifts an arm companionably and lets Karl snuggle in.

"I'm not worried about Anton. I'm talking about this new feed of his. Anton's too hyperactive to go for the same guy twice, and on a night that he's not even feeding? He's seeing someone just for sex."

"A tragedy," Bruce intones.

"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean."

"You think he's developing an attachment to a mortal."

"I do."

"Is that necessarily a bad thing?"

"He's young, Bruce. I'm not sure he's completely latched onto to the fact that when you develop an attachment to a mortal, they eventually _die_."

"Well. Usually."

"Oh no. No way in hell. I am not turning some new boyfriend of Anton's just so he can have a playmate. One babyvamp around here is enough, and I don't even _know_ the kid. I've never turned anyone for any reason other than _my_ personal connection to the mortal."

"And some would call you selfish," Bruce replies mildly.

"Some would call me _compassionate_." Bruce smiles and folds his paper.

"Give it time, Karl. You'll figure out what this is about."

"Yeah," Karl sighs. "That's what worries me."

~*~

"Well well. Isn't this a pleasant surprise?"

Zoe laughs and curtsies dramatically. "Good evening, grandpapa."

"Please, child, spare me." Zach smiles and pats his lap. "Tell me how you've been."

"Hmm. Good. The new pet's taken a liking to me."

Zach laughs and strokes his fingers through her hair as she sits. "Then why on earth are you here?"

"Recently, he's taken a liking to someone else."

"Poor Zoe. Children are fickle, I'm afraid. How is Karl managing him?"

"Actually, he's become much easier _to_ manage since he found this mortal mystery man. He's hardly trouble at all."

"Shame," Zach sighs. "I always like teaching new members of my family a lesson."

Zoe rolls her eyes and gently skims her lips along his neck. "You'll find something else to do."

"Indeed I will, pet," Zach murmurs, one large hand trailing up the inside of her thigh. "Why are you wearing pants, love? You want me to exert extra effort to debauch you?"

Zoe laughs. "Too late for that. And you know you could rip them off in a heartbeat if you wanted."

"I could," Zach agrees, "but you know how I enjoy your sense of fashion." She can feel his grin against her neck, and she smiles with him. She turns to catch his lips, but he stops her, one hand gripping her hair. "Unzip them." Her breath hitches and she complies. The trousers are soft, stylish, tailored, a pale charcoal pinstripe. Her panties are black lace, and he grabs at them, tugging upwards. The narrow strips of fabric at her hips rip, and he lifts the ruined underwear up and out, pressing his nose to the silk lining and inhaling deeply.

"I gather your sense of fashion doesn't extend to my underthings?" Zoe murmurs. He laughs and tucks the panties into his shirt pocket.

"Put your fingers on your clit." His voice is a soft, low purr. When he talks like that, she'd do anything for him, and he knows it. Her fingers slip down past the end of the zipper, tips pressing against her clit.

"Do you want my pants...?"

"Where they are. You don't think I'd make this easy, do you, beautiful?"

"No," Zoe sighs as he twists a nipple through her silky black camisole.

"Good girl. I think of you, do you know? Bent over my desk, taking my cock from behind, lips stained with the blood of some pretty blonde."

She moans and presses down harder. She can't rub properly, the pants are too tight, and she'd like to just rip them with her own superhuman strength, but Zach's punishments never tend towards the playful, pleasant variety. His rewards, on the other hand...

"Or one of those trendy clubs in the city, getting off on the dance floor with a stranger. I'd like to watch you like that one night, but you wouldn't be allowed to come to me until I called you. You'd have to keep finding men and women to dance with, and I'd order you to come, an orgasm per mortal, until you came to me and I fucked you against the wall in the dark."

"I think... that'd violate the rules of most of those clubs," Zoe replies, her voice broken by gasps as Zach nibbles on her neck, slicing a razor-thin line with his fangs and licking her, his tongue prodding the wound. Her clit throbs as if it were his tongue's target, not the blood.

"Then I'd buy the club, princess," Zach purrs. "Would be worth it to watch you open for me, bounce against the wall like that. You know what I'd love most?"

"What?" Zoe moans.

"Every single fucking man in that club would be looking at you," Zach rasps, his voice gone thick with arousal. "Wanting you, imagining how he might have you. And _I_ know that you'll have exactly who and what you want, no more, no less. I love that about you."

"Fuck me, Zachary. Fuck me," Zoe begs, her hips canting against her finger's pressure, her neck throbbing as he re-opens the cut.

"Mine," Zach growls in her ear, shoving the pants down so hard they almost do rip, his movements clumsy. "Get your legs up." She hurries to do just that, her knees on either side of his in the chair as she sinks down onto him, turning her head and grabbing the back of his neck. This time he lets her, lets her thrust her tongue into his mouth and eagerly suck her own blood from his tongue.

"Fuck me," Zoe hisses, crying out when his hips slam up to meet her ass. His cock pierces her so deeply she feels it in her gut, but she's strong, she's a vampire, and her body doesn't betray her like it sometimes did as a mortal. She gives as good as she gets, impaling herself, scratching the back of his neck and kissing him deep and dirty. When she was a mortal, before Zach, before Karl, sex used to be a linear transaction, from man to woman, and sometimes she hated it. Now, it's a meeting of minds, consent more than enthusiastic, and if Zach is centuries older and a thousandfold stronger, he has no desire to abuse it. She comes around his cock and he presses the heel of his hand against her clit, drawing out another orgasm, and another, until she's exhausted and shaking, feeling his growl against her lips as he comes. They lie together in his bed, sweat cooling against the sheets, and if she's not home by sunrise tonight, Karl won't worry. He knows that she is safe.

~*~

"Do you do this often?" Chris asks as they lie side-by-side in his bed, hands interlaced, Anton's back red against Chris's chest. He's young enough that the marks last a little while before they fade to nothing; in fifty years it'll only be a minute or two. Contrary to popular belief, though, vampires do feel pain, and Anton is thankful for it.

"Do what?" Anton mumbles, turning his face into Chris's neck.

"Have... I don't know. Boyfriends, fuck buddies..."

Anton blinks up at him. "Lovers," he murmurs, the headspace Chris has put him into making him completely honest. Chris's mouth twitches up into a smile and he rubs his thumb over the corner of Anton's mouth.

"Yeah. Lovers."

"You're the first."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "The first since you turned?"

"The first," Anton repeats. "Period." His eyes are a clear blue. There's no blush, no embarrassment.

Chris brushes his lips over Anton's and fingers the bite marks on his neck. "What will happen to me?"

"You'll take care of me," Anton murmurs, and presses his cheek to Chris's chest, scooting down in the bed. Anything beyond that, he'll think about later. For now, he just wants to be.

~*~

It's not as he described it. They're not _fucking_ against the wall of the club, but they are standing on it. That, at least, is unusual, for Zach tends to keep to the house he's lived in for the past two hundred and fifty years, taking a boy or girl from the surrounding area as a permanent feed for ten to fifteen years at a time. He doesn't often behave like his childe or his grandchildren, frequenting the Manhattan clubs and finding a different mortal to feed from twice a week. Zoe, though, has a certain pull over him, and so they're standing on the wall of this club, sipping dry martinis. They're not even touching, and a mortal wouldn't sense any connection between them, but from time to time their fingers brush and the heat is palpable. It's the anticipation that builds up in Zoe's gut, in her chest and in her clit, the darkness and the heat of the club and Zach standing next to her and the knowledge of how badly he wants to fuck her. His patience is sexy, but almost more so is the way she's able to try it, just a little bit.

They're scanning the room for a feed, but they're not the only ones. By some streak of bad luck, she and Anton have selected the same club on the same night, and she wonders if the child in his brashness has done this on purpose. Not that he'd ever think he could have more pull over a mortal than _Zach_, who as far as Anton knows is older than God, but there's still defiance in the way he works the room. He's not alone, and this is Zoe's first look at the mortal Anton's been spending all his time with--cocky, dirty blonde, blue eyes, confidence and a _hunger_ for Anton that radiates through the room to her almost as palpably as a blood lust. She wonders about him.

~*~

It's Chris who gets the idea, and Anton likes it, can't keep the grin off his face at first as he places himself on the wall, opposite the dance floor from Zach and Zoe. He doesn't meet their eyes; tonight's not about them, it's about Chris and the obvious _brilliance_ of his lover as he weaves through the crowd, selecting a target. By Chris time he finds her, Anton's expression has sobered, and he meets her gaze dead-on in a stare as Chris murmurs something in her ear. Anton tunes out the rest of the club, focuses his sharp vampire's hearing on the words on Chris's lips.

"Yeah, he's my boyfriend. He's a vampire. You ever met a vampire?" Chris is casual, jovial, but his hand's very lightly skimming up her outer thigh, teasing at the edge of her leather miniskirt. He doesn't go for it right there on the dance floor; he shows enough restraint to get her curious, and she watches Anton with kohl-lined eyes, dark red lips pouting in consideration.

"No," she murmurs, but she sounds like she believes him.

Chris smirks and pulls the clip from her dyed-auburn hair, lets it fall around her shoulders. "What's your name, honey?"

"Alice."

"Come with us, Alice."

"All right."

~*~

Anton and the mortal boy leave with a pretty girl, but Zach doesn't pay them more than a glimmer of attention, just enough to make sure a member of his family isn't being stupid, isn't going to fuck with his reputation. Once he's satisfied that Anton's being discreet, he goes back to seeking out an appropriate feed for Zoe. He fed the previous day, and he's sated enough for a week, but he wants her bent over a slender neck as he fucks her from behind, sucking savagely at the vein. He wants to watch her, and he doesn't want a mortal that will break at the prospect.

"This music is _shit_," an English-accented voice exclaims, breaking Zach out of his thoughts. He looks at the man who's just appeared next to him on the wall holding a fresh beer with mild interest, tinged with amusement. He looks at Zach as if just noticing him, and then nods to confirm his opinion. "Shit."

Zach can feel Zoe's smile next to him, but he doesn't look at her. "Nor is it to my taste," he agrees, sipping from his glass.

The man nods again, evidently satisfied, and takes a drink of his beer. "My local started closing at two," he explains with a disgusted grimace. "Where's a bloke on night shifts supposed to get a pint after work now, I wonder? These God-awful 'trendy' clubs," he mutters, making air quotes with the fingers of one hand. Zach privately thinks the man has had more than one pint this evening, but doesn't ask. "Simon," the man says after a moment, reaching his hand across his body to shake Zach's.

"Zachary. And this is Zoe," he adds. Simon's eyes light on Zoe's face, and then her body, with interest, but what Zach finds more intriguing is the way those eyes then return to his own body, giving him a similar appraisal. Simon grins, then, his face lighting up as he salutes them with his glass.

"Pleasure."

Zach's already skipping ahead, thinking about pleasures far more scintillating than a simple introduction. Simon's not gorgeous or pretty or classically beautiful, but he is handsome, with strong arms and a pleasant smile. He turns to Zoe with a slight raise of the eyebrows and she shrugs.

"Where are you from, Simon?"

"Gloucester. And yourself?"

"Israel," Zach replies, the simple version.

"Really? Huh. Your English is very good," Simon compliments, and Zach smiles.

"Thank you. Zoe and I were just about to go have a kebab. Would you like to join us?"

Simon nods and finishes his beer in a few swallows, putting his glass down on a table with a grin. "I never say no to some tasty meat," he replies cheerfully, giving Zach a brash wink. He has to fight down the urge to laugh.

~*~

Chris is locking the door to his apartment and flicking on a few lamps when Alice notices the soft leather cuffs dangling from the headboard, the leather tawse lying discarded on the floor. She turns to Anton with a quirk of her lips. "What would you say to an exchange?" she asks, her voice husky from too many cigarettes.

His eyes flick to Chris and back before he lets his lips relax into a seductive smile. "What kind of exchange?" he asks, reaching out and hooking a finger in one of the beltloops of her skirt. She steps closer and grins, licking his lips.

"You can have my blood after you beat me," Alice purrs, pressing the length of her body against hers. His dick twitches in his jeans, but again his eyes go to Chris.

He nods, his mouth forming words that Anton reads without trouble. _I'll show you._ Anton turns that smile back on Alice and threads his hand in her hair, tugs her head back and licks a line from the hollow of her throat up to her jaw. "It's a deal."

"Safeword?" Chris asks in a businesslike tone, tugging his shirt over his head. She grins at him over her shoulder.

"Applesauce. You boys have anything a bit thuddier?" she asks, poking the tawse with the toe of her Doc Marten.

"We do," Chris agrees in a grinning murmur, his chin resting on her shoulder as his fingertip trails up her spine. "Ladies' choice." Anton feels her shiver, her lower body pressing against his cock. He grabs Chris's hip, possessively, and kisses him hard with her sandwiched in between. Chris stands up straighter, so that Anton has to tilt his chin up to reach, and she moans softly as they work out their tensions. _Later_, Chris mouths, rubbing his thumb over Anton's lower lip and then stroking it over the vein in his own neck. Then he leaves them entirely, going to the closet where he keeps his toys. It takes Anton a moment to make a decision, a little lost without Chris, loathe as he is to admit it. Then he flashes his teeth at her again and steps back, back against Chris's dresser.

"Strip for me," Anton orders, his eyes hard on her body as she obeys immediately, tugging her shirt up over her head and letting it fall. She does a little spin for him, and she's gorgeous--wavy red hair, fake or no, falling down over her pale shoulders, a tattoo on her lower back and another above her hip. Chris catches her by surprise, pulling her back against his chest, and she lets out a little gasp.

Anton doesn't disguise his hunger as he stares at them--she's small, tiny in comparison to Chris's broad muscularity, and Anton almost wants to drop to his knees to suck on one of her small, pert breasts, to kneel for _him_ in turn. He doesn't, though; he stays rooted in place against the dresser, leaning on it with a false casual air, watching as Chris holds her in place with one arm across her torso and reaches down with the other, behind her, where Anton can't see. Her black panties drop to catch at the top of her boots, and Chris puts one of his own to the inside of her right foot, nudging her legs apart. Anton has never been so turned on as he is at this moment. He meets Chris's eyes and he can almost feel the fire jump between them.

A soft gasp from her, and Anton imagines one of Chris's fingers sliding up inside, but he doesn't look. He keeps his eyes on Chris as she makes another sound, an almost-protest and then a deep groan. Anton risks a glance down, sees Chris's arm tighten around her. His curiosity gets the better of him and he walks around, sees them in profile, and realizes that Chris has a finger up her ass, that he's using her own natural lubrication to make it work. Anton tips her head back against Chris's chest and kisses her hard, wanting, two of his own fingers sliding up into her, the base of his thumb tight against her clit. All he wants right now, how he desires so badly to be her, to be manipulated and strung out on endorphins and lust for Chris's pleasure, dissolves into that kiss. All the things he cannot say, and he feels Chris's finger through the thin walls of tissue and he feels Chris's reflected desire for him even as he consciously does not look, does not speak. When he dares to raise his eyes to Chris's again, the possessiveness is apparent. Another hard, hot kiss above her head, and then Chris pulls his finger out, wipes his hand on a tissue. She stays pressed against Anton's chest as Chris bends down and grabs something he found in the closet, holds the flogger with its leather tails up to meet her approval.

"Yeah?"

She nods, eyes half-closed with lust, and Chris gives Anton a wink. His cock is curving up against his belly, against her hip, and he watches as Chris hops up on the bed, threads a chain through an eyebolt in the ceiling Anton's never noticed, and then attaches a pair of wide, sturdy cuffs to it. When Anton lets her go she lifts her hands wordlessly, and Chris cuffs her in securely. "Face the bed," he orders, and she does so without question.

She's still wearing those clunky leather boots, panties stretched between them. She's still wearing that tiny leather skirt, but Chris doesn't remove it. He joins Anton instead, presses the flogger's handle into Anton's hand with another hard kiss that leaves no doubt as to who belongs to whom. "This is safe," he murmurs so softly in Anton's ear that a human would have to strain to hear. "Start gentle and work your way up, but don't go too slow or it won't work. Keep your stance steady. Listen to her cues to know when to go harder. You're aiming for here," he whispers, fingertips gently grazing Anton's back to the left of his spine, "and here," to the right of the spine. "Pull your wrist back when the tails hit, or just before. If you hear applesauce, you stop right away." Then he pulls back a little, lets Anton see his smile. "And relax."

Anton almost laughs, but instead he kisses Chris tenderly and wraps his hand more securely around the handle, getting a feel for the weight. Chris steps to the side, out of the way, where he can easily observe what Anton's doing. Alice stands perfectly still, breathing deeply, wrists pressed together over her head.

"Here it comes," Anton murmurs in warning before flicking the tails against her back for the first time. It's easier than he expected to aim, though harder to resist the temptation to lunge forward. He's a little too close for the length of the tails, so he steps back before he does it again, on the other side. Her sounds are soft, pleased. He works up a rhythm slowly, until she's murmuring "please" and moaning in between words. Then he hits harder, letting the tails fall with less space in between blows. Anton risks a glance at Chris and he stands steady, the impassive instructor, but his eyes burn hot for Anton. Anton lets himself enjoy this, hearing her cries increase in volume until she's begging them both incoherently. He hasn't cut her, but the blood is rushing to the surface of her skin, into the faint pink marks that grow darker as he continues, and he can smell it. When he can stand it no more, he drops the flogger and tugs his zip down, crossing the few steps between them and taking the unwrapped condom Chris presses quickly into his hand. He's grateful for it, because he doesn't want to take the time to explain about vampire blood and disease. He doesn't wait any longer than it takes to get the rubber on before he thrusts up inside her, squeezing her breasts, moaning against her neck as his fangs pierce the skin. She jerks and groans in his arms, and he impales her again and again. Chris slips onto the bed to watch, and Anton's eyes never leave him.

~*~

The lamb and beef are perfectly spiced, with a thick herbed yogurt sauce for dipping. Zach sucks each piece of meat off the skewer as they stand against the brick wall of an apartment building, chewing silently. Simon's lost some of his drunken exuberance and appears to have descended into contemplativeness, but perhaps he's just enjoying the snack. Zoe's first to speak.

"We both live a ways out of the city," she explains. "If you'd like to come with us, we'll give you train fare to get back before your shift."

Simon raises his eyebrows. "Direct. I like it. I have a flat, though."

Zach shakes his head. "The sun rises in three hours. I intend to take longer than that," he says, with just a flash of something wicked around the corner of his eyes. "Have you ever met a vampire?" he asks in response to Simon's confusion. He barks out a laugh.

"A _what_? Really, mate, that's funny." Zach smiles and lets his fangs extend. Simon rubs a hand over his eyes, staring. "I must be drunker than I thought," he murmurs.

Zoe laughs and steps a little closer, nudges him with his hip. "Only if you want to."

"Want to... what, exactly?"

"Fuck," Zoe murmurs, nipping his ear. "Let me feed from you."

"I'm drunk," Simon repeats.

"If you want to believe that you're hallucinating, you're welcome to do so," Zach offers. "Come with us, have an enjoyable evening, take the train back in the afternoon."

"I can't believe I'm actually considering this." Zoe laughs and presses a hand against Simon's cock, through his pants. Simon groans softly. "All right. Not even considering... c'mon, let's go, before I change my mind."

~*~

Simon turns out to be phenomenally good in bed. Not in the "have to have him _right now_" kind of way Zoe had been envisioning when they decided to find a feed together, but he's full of laughter and devious charm and he has a _very_ skilled tongue. Zach holds her hips in place as he goes to town on her, and she's well on her way to a third orgasm when Zach finally stops Simon, laughing, urging him up for playful kisses shared between the three of them. She doesn't hear Zach's laughter often enough, and Zoe likes how Simon brings it out.

"May I make a request?" Simon interjects, once Zach's dull front teeth release his bottom lip.

"Certainly."

"Well, if she's really gonna, you know..." He makes a jabbing clawing motion at the side of his neck with two fingers. "Can a man get a hand here, first?" he asks, vaguely waving in the direction of his lap. Zoe laughs and shifts her hand to his cock, naked, standing hard and red at attention. Zach crawls around them on the bed, stopping behind Simon, letting a hand drift downward.

"I'd like to fuck you," Zach murmurs in Simon's ear, not the usual seductive purr Zoe's used to hearing him employ on mortals but something lighter, joyful. Simon replies with a little half smile, tipping his head back on Zach's shoulder.

"Go on, then."

Zach smiles and tilts his head to meet Simon's lips, taking the lubricant Zoe passes into his hand and using it to open Simon up with one, two, three fingers. When he's sitting on Zach's cock, moaning wordlessly, Zoe's hand tight around his dick, she strikes, fangs sliding neatly into his neck. His eyes open wide in shock for a moment--she doesn't think he really believed them up until this moment--but then he relaxes into a contented purr, riding Zach's cock as she drinks from him and jerks him off. By the time he's come, she's full, and she licks the wound closed before sitting up, back on her heels, one hand behind her for balance, and rubbing herself fast and rough for their entertainment. She always feels so fierce, so _alive_ and powerful after she's fed. She watches them, Simon sated and moaning weakly, Zach thrusting up into him with his eyes hot on hers. They come not in unison, but close enough, and then they press up to either side of their enigmatic mortal, keeping him warm and safe as they all drift towards sleep.

~*~

"You need to calm down."

"What do you mean, calm down? I am not calming down! It is after sunrise and _my_ childe is not home..."

"...because he is safe in _my_ home."

"How do you know he's safe? You're the only one who's seen the kid, you and Zoe." Karl takes a step forwards, towards Zoe, but Zach body-checks him with a hard glare. "She's my childe," Karl hisses.

"And you're mine," Zach counters, one hand on Karl's chin, voice pitched low. "Or have you forgotten?"

"I'm fully grown, Zachary."

"And nearly hysterical. You've been like this with every one of your children, and it's completely uneccessary." His voice turns softer then, calming, a smile playing at his lips. "You're wearing yourself too thin, _neshama_. When's the last time you made love?"

Karl makes a soft, appalled sound. "Why does that..."

"When?"

"Not with me since Anton started disappearing," Eric volunteers. Karl shoots him a look and he shrugs.

"You know where I've been," Zoe says.

"And Bruce and John have been wrapped up in each other," Eric finishes.

"This is ridiculous," Karl growls, jerking away from Zach. He manages to get out of the hold but Zach's arms are instantly around him again.

"You don't run away from me, childe," Zach hisses in his ear. It doesn't stop Karl from trying, but then he's on the ground, Zach pinning him easily. He struggles but he's no match for Zach's superior strength.

"Eric."

"I don't... wait, I don't want to hurt him."

"You won't. He _loves_ you, he just seems to have forgotten all that in the midst of fatherly concern."

"You fucking..."

"Language." Zach sounds terribly amused. Eric sighs and kneels down, taking his cock out and stroking himself to hardness.

"It's not that I don't want to _fuck_ him," Karl growls. "It's that I want to do so without you hovering over me."

"Hmm. Not an option. Eric."

Eric mostly ignores him, choosing instead to focus on Karl, pressing a hand to his cheek. "Hey," he says softly. "Hey."

Karl sighs deeply and kisses his palm.

"We'd know if he were in trouble. We'd feel it."

"I know," Karl concedes, quietly.

"I love you so much," Eric murmurs against his lips. Zach loosens his hold and lifts one hand to stroke Karl's hair back from his forehead, like he did so many years ago at the onset of Karl's first hunger. "So does he."

Karl tenses slightly but lets Eric finger him open, lets him sink slowly inside and press his lips to Karl's. "I love you," Eric says again, nicking Karl's lip with his fang, letting Karl do the same for him so that their blood smears and mingles in the kiss. Karl repeats the mantra in a quiet breath, and they rock slowly together, their body heat rising, breath commingling. They come silently, kissing, stroking each other's bodies, Zach still idly petting Karl's hair. They go to sleep in one of the beds, Zach and Zoe in the next. Eric lies awake until he feels Karl's heartbeat slow. Evening will come.

~*~

They meet for the first time at about four one morning, at Big Daddy's diner in Gramercy. Anton orders a stack of french toast piled with bananas, marshmallows, and chocolate chips, as well as a slice of fried cookie dough for dessert, and Chris laughs softly and squeezes his knee as he asks for a cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie. Karl watches them carefully, studies every nuance of their movements as he orders his usual plate--two eggs, sunny side up, with toast--and a glass of orange juice. Chris doesn't tense at all under the intensity of his gaze, though, just waits for the other three to order and nudges Anton and shares little secret smiles with him. Karl isn't sure that Chris would _want_ to be a part of their family, were he to ask. He seems so comfortable in his mortality, in whatever this is that he's found with Anton. Karl suddenly feels very old.

"Where do you live, Chris?" Zach asks, breaking the silence. He looks up from his syrup-streaked menu as if he's forgotten they're all there and then smiles, shrugging.

"Just a shitty little apartment on the Lower East Side. It's got a doorman, though," he says with a touch of pride.

"And you work in construction?"

Chris nods and laughs. "It's a good job, though these days the early mornings are unfortunate," he says, and Karl notices the quick little rub he gives Anton's thigh under the table. He laughs it off, but Karl can see the dark circles under the mortal's eyes, the way he gratefully clutches the coffee mug when the waitress brings it. Anton frowns a little, blue eyes turning more intently on Chris, and Karl wonders if he hadn't noticed before now, the strain their relationship might be having on someone who lives in the sunlight. Anton is so young, even by mortal reckoning. Karl meets Eric's eyes across the table and knows that Eric's noticed it, too. For the first time, Karl's primary emotion towards Anton is sympathy.

"Honest work," Zach muses, thanking the waitress for his own coffee and tipping it thoughtfully to his lips. Karl remembers when he used to try to order tea in places like this, the grimace on the ancient vampire's face when he tasted the mellow brew of Lipton's. A faint smile rises to Karl's lips at the memory.

"Could you call in sick?" Anton asks quietly. "Just for a few days?" Chris laughs and shakes his head.

"Not if I want to be out of a job. Labor doesn't work that way, kid. You can't take a vacation because you're busy fucking your boyfriend." Karl notes that he shows no sign of embarrassment when he says it, nor does he lower his voice. He likes that brashness in a way, at least when paired with Chris's obvious affection for Anton. Karl isn't sure how he feels about this alliance, but he can recognize a good man when he sees one.

"You're both unusual and unlucky in a way," Zach muses with a kind smile for Chris. "Anton doesn't normally spend so much time with one individual." If he expected Chris to be surprised or flattered at the revelation, he'll have to be disappointed.

"I know," Chris says fondly. "Which is why I can sacrifice a few hours' sleep." He chucks Anton gently under the chin and Anton laughs, delighted, nudging Chris in the ribs. Karl aches for the boy he found, the wide-eyed student.

"Perhaps," Zach suggests, "it would do you both some good to limit your time with one another." Zach raises an eyebrow specifically in Anton's direction. "One meeting every three nights, perhaps." Enough to feed, but no more. It's a logical suggestion, Karl thinks, but Chris shakes his head.

"All due respect, uh... sir. But that won't work. That's not enough." Karl almost wants to tell the mortal boy that he decides what is and isn't enough, that he'd like to spend some time with his childe too, occasionally, but Zach makes another suggestion before he can interject.

"Perhaps, then, Anton," Zach says, never moving his gaze, under which Anton's eyes dart uncomfortably, "you should consider allowing your mortal lover to _sleep_ between the hours of eleven pm and sunrise."

"Or you could stay with us." The words are out of Karl's mouth before he knows he's going to offer them, and Eric's eyes dart to him in surprise, as do Anton's, and Zoe's, and even Zach's.

"That would be... convenient," Zach says. Karl can _feel_ the smile on his sire's lips without looking.

"Oh, I don't know, I mean..."

"We do live some distance from Manhattan, but there are trains, and alternatively you may find work in the neighborhood if you are skilled in carpentry."

Chris nods. "Carpentry... plumbing, electrical." He shrugs. "I'm kind of a handyman."

"You'd be much in demand, I'm sure. And it would be more reasonable. You can come and go as you please during daylight hours, though we remain below ground. You would be free to spend the early evenings with Anton, and to sleep past sunrise." Anton's expression has shifted from shock to a beaming grin, and he's nearly bouncing in his seat.

"Please? Please, Chris, you know he's right. It'd be so much easier, and we've got loads of room."

Chris frowns. "May I have some time to think about it?"

Karl nods. "Take as much time as you need."

~*~

"I think you've become predictable," Zach muses as he steps into Karl's living room the next evening, raising an eyebrow at his childe. "And then every few hundred years, you surprise me."

Karl snorts out a laugh. "Have to keep you on your toes."

"Why did you do it?" Zach asks, stepping into Karl's personal space, letting his hand rest gently on the back of Karl's neck, thumb stroking his nape.

"He... makes Anton better," Karl admits quietly. Zach brushes a kiss over Karl's lips.

"It bothers you that you cannot."

Karl's lips turn up in a wry smile. "It's quite clear that I can't control my children. But Anton's different. He doesn't come to me."

"He has a greater need for rebellion than the others did. He's young, Karl, by mortal reckoning."

"Zoe was young."

"Zoe needed safety. She needed your protection. Anton needs freedom to explore. That doesn't mean he won't come back."

"And what of this boy?"

Zach shrugs and smiles. "I like him."

Karl sighs. "Of course you do."

~*~

"Let's weigh the pros and cons," Anton suggests as they lie side-by-side in Chris's bed.

"Always the scientist," Chris teases, kissing his neck. "All right. Pro, you wouldn't have to go anywhere in the morning, and I'd be able to sleep a little later," he says, ticking off the index finger of one of Anton's hands. "Con, if we have loud kinky sex in your father's house, everyone's going to know about it," he continues, ticking the index finger on the other hand.

"He's not my _father_," Anton groans. "He's my sire. I have sex with _him_."

Chris laughs. "Okay, fine, your sire. But I get the feeling you want to keep this..." Chris brushes his hand over the already-fading welts on Anton's ass, his fingertips over his hole, pink and wet and sore. "...between us."

Anton frowns. "There are several bedrooms. More upstairs, that we can use at night. We could designate one for ourselves, somewhere for your things, and keep it private."

Chris nods. "You do want to keep it private," he murmurs, his tone serious, not judgemental.

Anton considers, then nods. "I want... you and I have something," he replies softly, kissing Chris's mouth. "It's sacred to me. I want you to be part of everything, but my family... you see me differently. I feel like someone else in your eyes."

Chris smiles and kisses him tenderly, stroking his curls. "You're no one that wasn't there already," he whispers.

Anton wraps his arm around Chris's waist and lets his thoughts settle.

~*~

"So you're getting a roommate." Anton startles and drops the stack of coffee filters on the counter, turning to face John. His voice is calm as usual, low and warm. Anton likes John--he's even-tempered, non-judgemental, supportive. Like Bruce, he's normally just raised an eyebrow at whatever exploits Anton's gotten into over the past few years and gone back to what he was doing with a boys-will-be-boys mentality. Then again, he has less of a stake in Anton's well-being than Karl does.

"Yeah," Anton replies with a little smile, gesturing to the pot with a questioning look. John nods and Anton puts enough water in the machine for two. It's an hour or two before sunset, and they're the first to stir.

"Karl must have been impressed, to offer."

Anton shrugs. "I guess, yeah. Chris didn't really do much, Karl just... well, yeah."

John smiles and sits at the kitchen table, pulling the cord of the Tiffany lamp that hangs over it. "Karl's a hard nut to crack no matter how long you've known him, and I'm going on a good century of expertise."

Anton can't help but return the smile at that. He loves the story of how Bruce found John as a student, the son of a diplomat, at the start of the twentieth century, and courted him quite formally before turning him more than ten years after their first acquaintance. He wonders if Bruce might have some advice, regarding Chris, regarding being in love with a mortal. He hasn't said the words out loud yet, but he hardly needs to. It's not unusual among their race to fall in love quickly and passionately, and whatever "love" is, it's no secret to Chris that they share it.

"Come sit with me," John suggests as the coffeemaker begins to drip, and Anton pushes off the counter with his hands, sliding into a chair opposite John and lacing his fingers together on the table, frowning slightly at them.

"It's different, with Chris," Anton says quietly. "Exciting. I don't want Karl to think..."

John smiles knowingly. "That you've moved on from him?"

"Yeah." Anton frowns. "I guess."

"You can't." John's hand covers both of Anton's on the table. "Trust me. He's your sire."

"I feel... jealous," Anton admits. "I don't want him to drink from Chris. I don't want anyone to."

"Droit du seigneur," John reminds him gently.

"I know. Fuck, I _know_," Anton says in a fierce whisper.

"Talk to him, Anton. Tell him."

Anton takes a deep breath, rests his forehead on his arms, and waits for the coffee to brew.

~*~

They establish Chris in an upstairs bedroom that's rarely used. The rooms upstairs are available as studies, or as a place to bring a feed if someone desires it, but most of them feed in the city and use this house as their sanctuary. There's an element of trust to bringing a mortal here that doesn't escape Anton. The room isn't huge, but it's bright in the daytime and it has a big bed. The bed sits under an eave of the roof, and there are strong wooden beams that Chris immediately starts considering, running his hand up the length of one until he can't reach any higher. Anton thinks of the eyebolt in the ceiling of Chris's flat and he shivers. Chris's eyes turn to Anton slowly, hungrily, and a grin lights up his face before he backs Anton towards the bed, laughing, stealing biting kisses. They fall to the mattress together with a dull thump, and then the clearing of a throat turns Anton's eyes to the doorway, to Karl standing with a couple of heavy boxes. Anton turns to Chris but he meets Karl's eyes evenly, his arm tightening a fraction around Anton's waist.

"You can set them down anywhere, thanks." He doesn't apologize for anything, and Anton thinks he sees a flicker of respect in Karl's eyes. He leaves the room as quickly as he came.

~*~

It's in "their" room that Chris first hears Anton play his violin. Beyond the heavy curtains and panes of glass, the world is dark with the roar of a heavy rainfall, and it provides a backdrop to the sharper sounds of the instrument, low and provocative as Chris sits on the bed and watches. Anton wears a worn pair of jeans, slung low on his hips, and his feet are bare. He stands with his feet slightly apart, the left leading, and his body dips and rises with his tune, fingers loosely holding the bow with the delicate touch that eludes a mere student. Anton's passion for the violin is obvious, and though Chris is no judge of technical proficiency, he finds the play of the bow across the strings and the soft haze of Anton's untroubled eyes captivating. He does not reach out for him, but lets Anton play on, defining the boundaries of his personal world. Chris is more than happy to be an observer.

~*~

"I have a request to make," Anton says as he and Karl sit across a diner table from each other, finishing plates of sausage and eggs and fried potatoes. Karl nods for him to continue and Anton hesitates for a moment before barrelling on. "You have... rights, regarding Chris. I'd like you not to exercise them."

Karl raises an eyebrow. "You don't want me to feed from him."

"I don't want you to _fuck_ him," Anton counters.

"No?"

Anton frowns. "I don't even know if he _has_... I don't want his first time to be with someone..."

"Who isn't you," Karl says softly, an appraising look in his eyes. "You don't fuck him."

Anton shakes his head.

"Then he..."

Anton nods.

Karl smiles a little. "Interesting."

"So... will you?"

"I think I can work with that request," Karl replies, reaching under the table and squeezing his knee. "But I want you to come to me tomorrow night, after he's gone to bed. I miss you, pet."

Anton smiles, almost bashfully, and tips his head to the side. "Yeah, okay. What about tonight, though?"

Karl grins and signals for the check.

~*~

Anton checks on Chris first, finds him snoring loudly in one of the bedrooms downstairs where Anton left him. They've worked out a sort of routine in the first few weeks of Chris living with the family--Anton's usually up by the time Chris gets home, and they spend their time in the upstairs bedroom, or occasionally Anton meets him in the city first for a couple of drinks before heading home. The others know not to go into Chris's bedroom, and they respect Chris and Anton's privacy in those times. When Chris gets tired, they end up downstairs, and Anton waits till he's sleeping before going back into the city with Karl or Eric, or going upstairs to bother whoever's home. Before the sunrise, Anton climbs into bed with Chris and they sleep together for a couple of hours before Chris is off to work.

In the middle bedroom, Anton finds Eric and Karl kissing unhurriedly in one of the beds, and they ignore him when he pulls the door shut, kicking out of his shoes and stripping at the foot of the bed. Naked, he joins them, sliding in behind Karl, and presses his mouth to the base of his sire's neck, one arm sliding around Karl's hip.

"Hello, little one," Karl murmurs into Eric's mouth. Anton smiles and spiderwalks his fingers down in between them, across Karl's stomach and down. "Not like that," Karl rasps, and hands back a tube of lubricant. "Get ready, pet." Anton shivers a little at the casual tone, but Karl doesn't pause in what he's doing, so Anton just sighs and flops back on the bed, lubing his fingers and jamming three up inside, a little vindictively. He cries out, but Karl and Eric don't turn to look.

When he gets tired of it, he tugs at Karl's shoulder, and Karl raises an eyebrow at him, gesturing to Eric with a little flourish and rising from the bed, stripping out of his clothes. Anton wriggles up next to Eric and lets the big man kiss him, getting a hand down and into Eric's fly to stroke his cock. He likes Eric, though he's usually on Karl's side in an argument. He's relaxed, usually happy, always generous. Anton moans quietly when he feels the mattress sink and then, no more than a few seconds later, the head of Karl's cock pushing against his hole. It's not brutal like it sometimes is with them, when it's punishment or frustration seeping into the coupling, but it is hard, and he whimpers and squirms against Eric's tight hold. Karl bites him and yes, part of what floods his mouth is Chris's blood, but Anton can live with that. It's funny in a way that he's protecting Chris like this, but there's no denying that he _wants_ Karl to fuck him this way, that there's something dark and primal in the way Karl's fangs pierce his jugular that he has no interest in giving up. When it's over, they hold him between their bodies, and they rest together until Anton finally slips free, pressing a soft kiss to each of their mouths, and goes to join his lover.

~*~

It's weeks before Karl actually sees Chris separately from Anton, doing chinups on a bar he's wedged into the kitchen doorway. Karl watches Chris's broad back flexing as he pulls himself up, wearing only a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants. When he finishes his reps, he turns and meets Karl's eyes, but to his credit doesn't flinch or even look mildly surprised.

"Morning, Karl."

Karl nods as Chris walks past him and pulls a pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge, pouring himself a glass. "Where's your better half?"

Chris snorts and nods towards the door that leads to the basement. "Asleep already. Did you tire him out?"

Karl allows Chris a smile and shakes his head. "He had a lazy night. He'll need to feed tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know," Chris replies with a bemused smile of his own, pouring a bowl of cereal and putting it at the table with his glass, sitting down across from Karl. It's easy to forget how in tune a mortal can be with a vampire, if he's feeding regularly.

"How much longer are you on this job?" Karl asks.

"Couple of weeks. Why?"

"There's a house half a mile away that you might look into. They're doing some big renovations."

"Got a contractor yet?"

Karl nods. "You should speak with him. Just a tip."

Chris thinks a moment, then nods in reply. "Thanks."

"Of course."

"Not your bedtime yet?" Chris smirks a little, and Karl just laughs at him.

"Cute. I'll be up for a couple of hours yet."

"Does it ever get claustrophobic down there?"

"In the daytime?"

Chris nods. "It'd drive me fucking crazy, I think."

"Probably not if you were a vampire. It goes with the territory. Also, I haven't seen the sun in hundreds of years."

"Would you like to? I mean, if someone could offer you that, would you take it?"

"At what price? I like my life as it is."

"I'm not sure I would," Chris says quietly, pushing the cereal around in his bowl. "If someone were to ask."

"Well no one is, for the moment," Karl replies gently. He feels a pang of sympathy for the kid that's somewhat unexpected. "And if you have the opportunity, you don't have to say yes."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Have to say yes."

Karl looks away. "It doesn't matter."

"Did Anton?"

"Pretty much."

Chris nods. "I thought so. I get it, you know? I get wanting companionship, wanting to keep someone around forever. Eternal life with him, yeah, sure, it's tempting. But that's giving up a measure of control that I just... I don't know."

Karl considers for a moment. "You're not really giving anything up."

"If I never had it in the first place, yeah. But Anton's not like that. He couldn't do it that way."

"I could."

Chris stares at him for a moment, but Karl doesn't take it back. "All right," he says finally. "So you could." He finishes off the bowl and his juice, but doesn't stand. "I used to think that the solution was to get control back, to learn to fight and learn how to protect myself, how to close myself off, I guess. I used to believe that I could make a decision never to have anything done _to_ me again. But you can't make that decision. Sometimes you can just... react. If you were to decide, to turn me, then that's what I'd do. React. But if you decide that, I'd watch your back, Karl," Chris says with a gleam of danger in his eyes that completely belies the disparity between them. It should get Karl's hackles up, make him want to knock the boy down a peg, but Karl's a good listener.

"Who hurt you?" he asks, eyes locked on Chris's.

Chris shrugs. "My father. I hope you never meet him."

"He should hope that too," Karl replies, his voice calm and even. He's old enough that he rarely betrays his anger, but despite how much of this world he's seen malice against the innocent still makes his blood boil.

"It's ancient history, Karl. Believe me. I've slain my demons."

Karl smiles and scoots his chair back, ruffling Chris's hair when he passes. "You wouldn't know ancient history if it bit you in the ass, pup. I'll see you tonight."

~*~

Chris spends half an hour just watching Anton sleep.

It's dim in the room, just the glow of a desk lamp casting light on Anton's slender form, and despite the effect of the yellow light Anton still looks pale as a ghost. His back is turned to Chris where he sits in the chair, still in his work clothes, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. Chris counts Anton's vertebrae, visible underneath his skin, and wonders if vampires can gain weight. Anton eats like a horse, but Chris never feels so much of a hint of a belly's gentle swell under his hand when they lie side by side. He could be jealous; his own workout routine is brutal and the minute he lets it go his body will show it. But in a way he likes the changes in his body and mind that mark the passage of time. He can't imagine having your entire life be stamped with who you were at twenty, to have the waiflike body of an overworked student with too many hours clocked in at the lab for all eternity. Maybe that's part of why Anton likes to take pain--he's not as fragile as he looks; the kiss of a whip won't break him. Chris thinks about that as he pushes his clothes and boots off and slides into the bed behind Anton, his hand skimming over a hip and down, wrapping around Anton's soft cock.

"I want to take a cane to you tonight," he whispers in Anton's ear, the moment he feels the jerk that tells him Anton is awake. In the few seconds of disorganized thought before full wakeness, he relishes Anton's entirely instinctual groan, and his hand tightens. "I want to put you completely out of commission," he murmurs. "I know it'll only be a few minutes," he adds quickly, before Anton can object, "I don't care. I want you dependent on me for a few minutes. I know you're hungry. I want you to _need_ my blood." These are thoughts, desires, that he hasn't expressed out loud. He's never trusted anyone with them, never trusted himself enough to let someone depend on him. He knows that abuse is a cycle, but life is short, and his conversation with Karl this morning shook a few things loose in his mind. He doesn't want to be a vampire; he doesn't want to depend on Karl or Anton because he wants so badly for Anton to depend on him.

A shuddering breath, and then Anton's neck twists, his mouth fits against Chris's and he kisses hard, desperate. "Please," Anton moans. "I need that too... God, Chris, I _need_ it."

"I know," Chris murmurs against the biting kisses, the metallic exchange of blood in their mouths. And he does know; he knows that Anton was searching for something before he stumbled upon Chris, and that he can fulfill a need for Anton, that Anton was lost and may be lost again. None of that matters now, only that he can give something to both of them. "Upstairs," he hisses, his cock hard against the back of Anton's thigh.

He follows Anton up the steps, both of them naked, and Bruce barely looks up from his coffee and newspaper as they pass by on the way to the second floor. John catches Chris's eye and winks, but he doesn't really care what for, too busy tracking Anton's ass as the vampire ascends the second flight of stairs. When they reach the bedroom, Chris slams the door behind him and just walks straight into Anton, shoving them both onto the bed. Their kisses are frenzied, desperate, and Chris pinches and twists every bit of skin he can reach until Anton's crying out from the pain peppered all over his body. Chris knows Anton can only feel a pinch for an instant, but he keeps them coming, building sensation until he's sure Anton can't tell the difference between actual stimulation and memory.

"On your stomach," Chris orders, adjusting Anton as he wants him once he's there. Bent over the edge of the bed, thighs together, cock and balls lifted out of the way, and then he finds his cane under the bed, in its box. It's been years since he used it, and he fingers the wood with a faint smile, lowering it to Anton's lips. Anton's kiss is soft, reverent, and Chris has to groan and give his cock a squeeze before he can get down to business.

It's a relief sometimes, that it doesn't matter if he screws up physically. Anton's body can take it like a mortal's couldn't, though Chris still follows safety protocol, still is careful to lay down strikes in the target zone. He lines the cane up and when he's ready brings it down, quickly, one hard tap after another. Anton starts with gasping, and then he's crying out, unrestrained, clutching the mattress. They're going to be able to hear downstairs before too long, and maybe Chris should control himself, knowing that Anton wants their dynamic to be private, but he doesn't care. He brings his arm further back, makes a wider arc, hits harder, and soon Anton's screaming, his ass an angry red. Chris keeps going until he's staining the cane with blood, and he _keeps_ going until there are streaks of brilliant red across a dark pink plane, until his body is so strung out with desire that he can't _not_ be touching Anton.

It's a monster he's unleashed, but he's greedy and desperate and doesn't care. When he turns Anton over, it's as he'd thought it would be. Anton looks exhausted, worn out, and he's almost perfectly still. Chris growls with some primal instinct and yanks Anton up into his lap even as he sits, grabbing Anton's hair and forcing Anton's mouth down on his neck. When he feels the prick of fangs he pushes harder, wanting to feel them go deep into his vein, wanting Anton to suck hard, wanting to see Anton's monster, as well. The suckling is weak at first, but then Anton growls and drinks faster, and Chris lets his hands drop to grab hard at Anton's ass with one and at his cock with the other.

They don't come at the same time, but it's damn near close and the desperation doesn't stop there; they're clawing at each other even as Anton finishes and Chris feels himself weak and dizzy from blood loss, smearing Anton's blood from his palm across Anton's back. The marks themselves will be healed now, but Chris doesn't have to look. He gets off on the coppery smell in the air and the way Anton kisses him and he pins Anton down to the bed, keeping that between them until his mouth is too tired to kiss anymore. Then he lays his head on Anton's chest and feels the smooth stroke of Anton's fingers through his hair. He could feel vulnerable here, but the dynamic is so natural to them that it holds, a boy comforting his protector, and everything is as it should be.

~*~

"Well look who's home," Eric exclaims with a grin as Zoe rolls her eyes and tries to walk past. He doesn't let her, just grabs her arm and tugs her down into his lap. "Having fun with grandpa?"

"Gobs," Zoe agrees, smirking at him. "Have you missed me?"

"Of course. What do you think we've been doing without our girl? We've been lost, I tell you."

"Oh, I'm sure you've found plenty to do around here," Zoe snorts. "How's the new mortal member of the family fitting in?"

"Not like you're thinking. It's hands off on him."

"Really? Wow. I can't imagine Karl sticking by that."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't imagine Karl inviting a mortal kid to live with us, either, but Karl can be unpredictable."

"Does it bother you?"

"Nah. I'm easy," Eric replies, kissing her softly. "They do their own thing, mostly. Gives Karl more time for me, frankly, which I can't complain too much about."

"No, I wouldn't think you would."

"You know you're always welcome back though, Zo."

"Yeah, I know." She smiles and nips his neck. "I thought you might like having him more-or-less to yourself for a bit, anyway."

"Hmm. I like having you more-or-less to myself, too," Eric teases, squeezing her ass. "Have you fed?"

"Last night. You?"

"Yeah. I could go for a night in, myself," he says with a wicked grin.

"You're incorrigible."

"Lay back, sweetheart, and I'll show you how much."

~*~

Anton rarely gets into his restless moods anymore. Sometimes Chris literally beats them out of him, other times he just feels that he's sinking into his age, into his immortality. Tonight, neither is the case, and he's feeling daring, sliding a hand down Chris's back, his fingers teasing between Chris's ass cheeks. The reaction is immediate, a tension, one hand on Anton's shoulder.

"Wait. Don't."

"I want to," Anton pouts. "C'mon, it's not fair. I want to."

"Well I don't," Chris replies. His face is closed off, and it's not a look Anton's seen on him. Anger, yes, occasionally frustration, but never this blankness. He relents a moment, considers dropping the subject, then forges on. Karl might not want to keep that promise forever and Anton, in a way that is both childish and primal, wants to be first.

"It doesn't hurt that much. You'll get used to it."

Chris coughs out a dry laugh. "I'm not a virgin, Anton."

"Wait, what?" He stops a minute, surprised out of his seduction, and stares at Chris. "You're _not_?"

"No, Jesus, don't look at me like that. I'm not fucking damaged goods."

Anton frowns. "I just thought..."

"You thought wrong. Look, my old man was a bastard, and I'm sorry, but you can't touch me there. I can't do it, so let's go on finding other ways to be sexually liberated."

"Your dad..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Chris," Anton whispers, his heart flaring alternately with sympathy and rage.

"I can't stay here right now if you need to talk about this."

"But..." Anton frowns. "Where would you go?"

"I don't know. And don't say you won't fucking let me, because I know you, and you've never forced me. You don't want to."

Chris is right. "Look, can we just..."

"Fuck, I need..." Chris breathes in deep, then exhales, pressing his hands to Anton's cheeks. "I need to take a walk. I'll be back in half an hour, okay?" He kisses Anton tenderly, and Anton's head's spinning.

"Wait, but..."

"If you need to talk to someone, you can. Just not me. I'll be back," Chris promises again, and then he's leaving. Anton frowns and presses his hands against the mattress. Well, fuck.

~*~

"You're going to wear a hole in that carpet."

Anton startles, looks up and into Zach's eyes. "I didn't know you were here."

"Non-sequitur," Zach replies with a fond smile. "What's up?"

"He's been gone for twenty minutes."

Zach doesn't ask who "he" is. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

"Half an hour."

"Then sit down."

"That's not... _fuck_," Anton groans, clenching his hands into fists. Zach steps forward and draws Anton into his chest, holds him tight against the initial struggles for space and coos softly in his ear.

"Tell me what happened," Zach says gently, pulling Anton down into his lap in one of the big armchairs.

"Chris's father, he... fucking _Christ_."

"Tell me, pet."

"He _raped_ him. Christ, I don't even know, once or more than once, I just... I wanted to fuck him, God, I'm so fucking stupid, I wanted to be first before _Karl_, and I wasn't even thinking that there might be a reason that... Jesus _Christ_."

"Saying his name won't bring him back from the dead," Zach says calmly.

"I don't know what to _do_."

"There's nothing you can do."

"Kill the fucker in his sleep?"

"Which would solve nothing, as you well know. Chris would see it as cheating, and inevitably the relationship is more complicated than the abuse itself."

"What, you think he still _likes_ the guy?"

"Doubtful. I think that it's complicated, and that it isn't your place. Do you think Chris hasn't thought about these things before?"

"Well obviously, but..."

"And all things considered, I'd say he's a relatively well adjusted young man."

"Yes, but..."

"He's not looking for a hero on a white horse, Anton. He's looking for you. And he's found you, and you need to respect whatever boundaries he sets. And don't worry about Karl. He wouldn't."

"Chris doesn't want to talk about it. He went for a fucking walk."

"Then don't talk to him. Talk to us, if you need to. Don't make him re-hash it if he doesn't want to."

Anton frowns and lets out a breath, resting his head against Zach's chest. "Does it seem trivial to you? You're so old. I guess this kind of thing happened all the time back then."

Zach laughs. "First of all, you'd be incredibly naïve to think that it doesn't happen all the time now, child."

"Yeah, but it's less socially acceptable."

"Perhaps. I'm not entirely convinced. But yes, you are correct in your observation that I've lived through brutal times. And no, it doesn't seem trivial in the slightest. Immortality can be heartbreaking, no matter how successful one is in his isolation."

Anton frowns. "You're not so isolated now. You come here more, and into the city."

Zach smiles and brushes his lips over Anton's. "I have some encouragement in that vein."

Anton manages a smile of his own. "Zoe."

"Indeed. But I'm hardly a social butterfly. It's difficult to retain connections to the world when one witnesses its predictability again and again. Why do you think vampires turn humans, and establish families? Companionship is somewhat essential to sanity."

Anton nods. "I'm not sure... I don't think Chris wants to be turned. And I'm not sure I want him to be."

"It's not uncommon for a vampire to fall in love with a mortal without turning him. You should ask Karl to tell you about Marton sometime."

"Marton?"

"Marton is a somewhat involved story, and not mine to tell. But you should ask him. It may shed some light on your own predicament."

The front door opens and they both look up. Chris smiles sheepishly, though it doesn't reach his eyes, and holds out his arms. Anton doesn't rush into them, but walks forward steadily and holds Chris in a tight hug, his lips at Chris's neck.

"Hey, kid."

"Are you okay?"

Chris nods and strokes Anton's hair. "Yeah." There's a pause, then he kisses Anton's forehead. "I might ask, okay? Just, not now."

Anton nods in reply and kisses Chris softly on the mouth. "That's fine. Not now."

By the time Anton lets go, Zach is gone.

~*~

"Why did you turn me?"

Zach raises an eyebrow at Karl across the table. "Well _that's_ a loaded question."

Karl shrugs. "I know. But I'm curious."

"For the first time in how many hundreds of years?"

"Anton asked me the other day why I turned him, and Eric, and Zoe. And I realized I didn't have that answer from you."

"Because you were beautiful," Zach says simply, meeting Karl's eyes over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Oh, come on."

"Simply, arrestingly beautiful. And I had to have you. We're similar men," Zach says with a little smile. "And I was younger then. I wanted you, and I took you. And here we are."

"All right. But why no one else?"

"It hasn't happened since."

"Oh bull_shit_. You haven't found another mortal beautiful since then? That's ridiculous."

"It would be, if that was what I meant." Zach smiles. "Like I said, I had to have you. I haven't needed anyone in that way since that night. And," he repeats, "here we are."

Karl turns that over a few times in his head. Somehow, it's more powerful than any verbose declaration of love Zach might offer.

"You're not thinking of turning the boy?"

"No."

"And Anton won't."

"It's not in the cards."

"And since when did you care what was in the cards?" Zach asked with a smirk.

"Since I had the responsibility to decide another man's destiny," Karl says simply. "A man who will, quite clearly, never belong to me."

Zach nods. He finishes his coffee.

~*~

There's a towering mound of cheese fries between them, cheese grease and chili grease melding together in some sort of unholy trinity with a crowning drizzle of ranch dressing. The Formica table glistens and the waitresses bustle about as usual. Chris offers a little smile, dabbing red goop away from his mouth, and it breaks some of the tension between them. Karl laughs.

"So. We need to talk."

"So you said. You're not kicking me out, are you?"

Karl shakes his head. "Hardly. I want to talk to you about some... difficult realities, such as they are."

"Okay," Chris agrees, nodding his head. He doesn't frown or drop Karl's gaze, but Karl doesn't expect any less from him.

"I'm not planning to turn you. Neither is Anton. I don't want to exert that kind of force over you."

"Because you pity me?"

"Because I respect you."

Chris nods, takes a fry.

"And because I don't need to turn you. Maybe Anton will, eventually. I don't think so."

"All right." Chris pauses a moment, sips at his coffee. "You know that I _get_ that I'm going to die, right? I'm a human being. It kind of goes with territory. I'm not bothered by that."

"He's not going to age."

"Physically, no. It doesn't mean he doesn't change. Mature."

Karl cocks his head to the side in acknowledgement. "It was bound to happen sometime."

Chris's face softens into a laugh. "Were you ever impetuous? Foolhardy? You must have been young once."

Karl shrugs, deflecting the question. "Were you?"

Chris's face clouds and he doesn't answer. They eat their cheese fries in silence.

"I should meet Anton."

Karl nods. "I'll walk you to the club."

"You don't have to do that."

"No," Karl agrees. "Come on." Chris shakes his head, but he follows.

~*~

When Chris finds him, he's not dancing. He's just standing on the wall, a beer dangling by its neck from his fingers, watching. From this angle, in this light, he looks older. His posture's sure, eyes scanning the floor. He doesn't look like that restless boy anymore, and it's only been a few months. Chris thinks that his ability to evoke such a change in someone should probably be jarring, but he doesn't mind it. With Anton he feels like two compatible pieces slotting together, and it's them against the world now. He's not alone in the raging, shifting seas.

Anton catches his eye and offers a slow, sexy smile. Chris returns it with a wider grin, pushes his way through the crowd, finds his spot at Anton's side. "Hey," he murmurs, hand resting over Anton's back pocket, the other squeezing his waist, lips teasing over Anton's soft pink mouth.

"Hey yourself. Did you have a good talk?"

"Yeah," Chris nods. "We cleared some things up."

"Good. Wanna fuck me?"

"I do," Chris agrees. "Later. Dance?"

Anton grins, licks his lips. His eyes are bright and trusting as his hips push forward and his chest meets the plane of Chris's body. Slender arms wind round Chris's neck, a teasing kiss, a secret smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

  
-finis-


End file.
